


Sweet Dreams

by Snekki_Boi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal, Angst, Blow Jobs, Dreams, Fluff, How Do I Tag, M/M, Masturbation, Nightmares, PTSD kinda, Post-Apocalypse, Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-16 23:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20610896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snekki_Boi/pseuds/Snekki_Boi
Summary: Crowley had been getting nightmares of his Fall and what could have been if Armage-didn't had happened. He'd woken up in a cold sweat many times before his nightmares began to change into more and more pleasant things. Or rather, pleasurable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I don't know what I'm doing. Just drink some water and stay healthy, alright?

There was fire. There was smoke - or maybe that was just the sooty clouds. Regardless, everything was just shrouded in pain. Crowley didn't see the star-dusted sky, the rippling winds shaking him to his very core. No, he was in too much pain. The burn in his back was spiraling through his entire being like writhing roots breaking concrete. It seemed to last too long, too short, then CRASH. He was on a battlefield, leveled by bombs. He felt the radiation in his skin, his feathers, smelled it in the very air he was unnecessarily breathing in. 

Two sides. But they were parted like the Red Sea. There were faceless faces and shapeless bodies. They all watched Crowley, unseen gazes prickling at his skin. Every instinct told him to flee, but his feet remained stubbornly planted. 

"Please," a voice croaked pathetically. "Please, Crowley." 

He looked down to see Aziraphale, wings bent all wrong and eyes blinded by something dark. There was no light around him. Just bloodied, bruised, and nearly collapsed. 

"I trusted you," he wailed, voice broken to the dry winds. "I trusted you. How could you?" 

Crowley wanted to scream, "I didn't mean it! I can't have done this! I'm so sorry, angel!" but all that came out was a cold and cruel, "You deserve it." He didn't want to say that. He didn't want to pick up the flaming sword. He absolutely did not want to kick down his angel and point the blade to his throat while he cried in fear. He didn't want to slash it through the air until it cut through Aziraphale's- 

Crowley shouted in a blind panic, kicking his sheets as he scrambled up in bed. He was breathing so hard, his lungs were near bursting, and his heart was beating so loud that he swore anyone could hear it from outside. Sweat made his hair and outfit cling to his quivering body, sticky and hot and very unpleasant. He coughed, choking on a sudden breath. Once he came to his senses, he heard only silence. There was wind from outside and his place smelled like it always did: sulfuric and new, as if no one lived there. He wiped stray tears he hadn't noticed were there and got up shakily. 

"Fuck," was all he hissed, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and drinking straight from it. He didn't stop until it was halfway finished. "Fuck," he repeated with a groan. Then he continued drinking every last drop of the bottle. 

* * *

Crowley blinked, staring at the ceiling. How long had he been there? He sat up, joints protesting and reminding him that the floor was not the best choice to sleep on. Especially when it was littered with bottles. He rubbed his head, certain that he was hungover. It had been a long time, and damn, he did not miss that feeling. He vaguely noticed some sort of ringing sound but opted to ignore whatever the hell that annoying thing was to get a glass of water. There was no way in Hell he would be doing any miracles for the day. He juggled the idea of taking another bottle out of his cabinet to reinforce his sleep. But the hungover jabbed at his head painfully, and he knew that that just wouldn't be happening. He swallowed the glass of water greedily, throat nearly expanding to take it all. It was a habit of his, being part snake and all. 

"Crowley!" 

His breath hitched, choking on the water and coughing it all back up. That triggered everything else to leave his stomach. Crowley was just glad he had a mind to jump to the sink. He gagged, licking his lips when he was done. Alcohol and acid burned his throat. So it was the doorbell that was ringing, his subconscious thought. 

"Oh dear lord!" Aziraphale exclaimed in a panic. "Crowley! Are you alright?! What's happened?!" 

"Fine, fine, angel," Crowley replied hoarsely, wiping his mouth as he stumbled back. "Just fine." 

"You clearly aren't! What in Heaven's gotten into you?" Aziraphale waved a quick hand, clearing his sweat and grime and fixing his outfit. 

"Had a bit too much to drink, is all. Forgot to take it out." 

"Crowley, you're a mess!" 

"Not the first time," Crowley mumbled. 

Aziraphale sighed. "I think you should get some rest, dear." 

"Rest?" 

The angel nodded, offering a kind smile. "It can't be too pleasant using so much effort just to stand when you're sick!" 

Crowley swayed slightly. "What? No. Sure." His head was still throbbing. He couldn't think right. "Bed?" 

"Yes, bed," Aziraphale agreed, taking him by the arm. "Come now, my dear. I'll help you." 

Crowley mumbled something about not needing help but obediently followed Aziraphale anyway. He dropped like a bag of bricks once they reached his bed. Its sheets were twisted and thrown half off while the pillows looked disturbed, as if someone had thrashed them. Aziraphale fixed that easily, tucking in Crowley. 

"There you are, love," he murmured. 

"Angel," Crowley called groggily. 

"Yes?" 

"Promise me you'll be okay." 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Aziraphale tilted his head in question, but Crowley had already fallen asleep. He smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Had a night to himself and he drinks himself silly. Oh, what am I going to do with you?" Take care of him, his mind answered. He clearly needs it. 

"Aziraphale," Crowley mumbled. 

"Yes?" 

No response. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale tried calling. 

"No," Crowley breathed. "Don't touch... my angel. Don't. Aziraphale." 

Said angel looked over him with concern. "A nightmare," he said with a frown. "How awful." 

"Aziraphale," he called again, craning his neck to one side as if to avoid a burn. "No." 

Aziraphale held a hand gently against Crowley's forehead. The demon leaned into the touch. Aziraphale couldn't help smiling. 

"Sleep peacefully," the angel said. "Dream of the good things, of whatever you like most. Dream well." 

* * *

One moment, Crowley was about to see Azirahale burned, and the next moment, he was at the Ritz. A sense of calm and peace washed over his being as he sat back, crossing his leg. Aziraphale was eating, like always. Savoring every little bite of cake and cream. Crowley watched, violence and death forgotten. Aziraphale was next to him, safe and sound. They were untouchable. At this moment, they were absolutely untouchable. 

"Champagne?" Crowley offered, tilting the bottle. 

"Oh, why, yes! Thank you." 

They toasted, sipping happily and casually. They talked of nothing and everything. They were perfectly together. 


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale picked up all the bottles on the floor and refilled them with a miracle, storing them back in the cabinet. He fussed about the place, cleaning some dust and perusing a small shelf of books he had discovered. Just as the kettle boiled and he was making cocoa, Crowley walked into the kitchen. 

"Morning," he mumbled, eyes squinting at the lights. 

"It's actually evening," Aziraphale said, stirring milk into his cup. "You slept all day. Cocoa?" 

"No, thanks," he said. "Slept all day? How the hell did that happen?" 

Aziraphale sipped his cup. "Well, I noticed you were having a nightmare and thought it well to give you dreams that were a bit better." 

"Was that what those were? Better dreams?" Crowley scoffed, grabbing a bottle of wine. 

"Oh, no, you don't!" Aziraphale snatched it away from him with his one free hand. "You are not going to drink any alcohol for the time being. Not until you've fully recovered." 

Crowley rose his brows in surprise. "I'm fine, angel. I can walk. I can talk." 

He shook his head. "No alcohol. I mean it, Crowley! I can't have you hurting yourself." 

He sputtered. "Hurt myself? I- I'm not going to- I'm a demon! You can't seriously believe that I'll..." Crowley trailed off, seeing the look on Aziraphale's face. He hated it when his angel made that face, almost pouting and pleading. It really affected him in ways he wished it didn't. "Oh, alright. Fine. No alcohol." 

Aziraphale grinned. "Now, how about a little bit of soup? I've heard they make the ill feel better." 

"Soup? Angel, I'm not a sick child. I'm fine. A little hangover won't kill me. You can leave now." Crowley cursed himself for speaking without thinking. He didn't want Aziraphale to leave. He wanted him to stay. But he couldn't take it back now. 

"Oh," Aziraphale said, tinged with disappointment. "I see. Of course, my dear. A little hangover wouldn't be anything to someone like you." He shuffled his feet. "I have some books that need tending to back in my shop. Perhaps I can return another time to check up on you. Er, well, I mean to visit." 

That would be nice, Crowley thought. Another visit. "Sure," he said. "See you around then, angel." 

* * *

Crowley stared at his bed, glaring at it as if it had offended him. He didn't know if he should sleep again that night. He didn't want nightmares, but the boredom of nightly silence seemed to insist. After the apocalypse didn't happen, Crowley found that he had more time than he knew what to do with. Hell didn't need him anymore. He was free. 

His freedom felt lonely. 

Crowley slipped into bed and stared at the ceiling again, picturing the stars and distant galaxies and where they'd be if he were to look up at them now. And soon, he saw Aziraphale in his mind. A pleasantly smiling angel that would never so much as _think_ of hurting him. Crowley closed his eyes, remembering the features of his angel in detail. The soft light of sky caught in his eyes, pale blond curls framing his stupidly kind face, wings a pure ivory. Crowley shivered, sliding deeper into his sheets. He felt an urge, a desire to touch Aziraphale's feathers. Light strokes at first then caresses then tugs then a gentle pull. 

Stop, Crowley told himself, eyes opening. No more. You can't touch him. Not with your filthy hands. Not on his purest wings. 

He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. Stars, restaurants, pubs, Angels, hotels, Aziraphale. Fuck. That wasn't going to work. So Crowley snapped his fingers and music began to play. That worked, until he drifted off to sleep.

There was a flicker of red and orange. For a second, he thought it was the light of hellfire or the sword. But it was just a fireplace, a warm hearth. He was in a cabin, sitting in the couch quite comfortably with a glass of red wine. Looking up, he saw Aziraphale peering from around a door frame. Confused but happy to see him, Crowley beckoned for him to join. 

"I would love to," Aziraphale began shyly. "But I've... seem to have gotten myself in a... situation." 

"What's wrong, angel?" Crowley asked. His voice sounded husky. He didn't mean it to. 

"Well... well, I-I sort of... tangled my wings with rope." He stepped out from behind the frame, showing off his wings. A thick, long rope was, indeed, curling and looping around his wings in knots and tangles. "Could you help me?" 

Crowley chuckled, getting up. "Of course. But what on earth were you doing with so much rope?" He hesitated to go near Aziraphale's wings but found an end and carefully began to tug and fold and untie the rope. It was stubborn. 

Aziraphale sighed faintly, mumbling, "It was an accident." 

Crowley pulled a wrong knot and tightened the rope, making Aziraphale flinch and groan. 

"Sorry!" he said, tugging it the other way to loosen it again. "Wrong piece." 

Aziraphale fidgeted, wings shifting. "I-it's alright." 

Crowley tucked a strand backwards, brushing against the smaller feathers. Aziraphale's hands shot up to cover his mouth. Crowley froze. 

"Are you sure you're alright, angel? Seems like I'm hurting you." 

He shook his head, taking a shaky breath. "I'm fine, Crowley. Please continue." 

Crowley eyed him suspiciously but continued untying and untangling. Eventually, he came upon a knot that was especially stubborn and clingy to a few feathers. Crowley hesitated again, fingers twitching. "Angel." 

"Hm?" 

"This knot's... tied to feathers. It might hurt a bit." 

Crowley heard an audible swallow. Was Aziraphale afraid? 

"A-alright. Go on then," the angel permitted. 

With the greatest care, Crowley began to untie the absurd knot. How in Hell did Aziraphale accidentally knot so much rope so intricately into his wings? Crowley had to squeeze his fingers into the crease of the rope and into the soft feathers. They were so warm and so beautiful that Crowley almost forgot what he was doing. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale moaned. Moaned? Had that hurt? 

Crowley drew his fingers back quickly - too quickly - and Aziraphale's wings shuddered as he moaned again. 

"Please," the angel breathed. "Please!" 

Crowley's mouth was dried. He licked his lips fruitlessly and mumbled, "please what?" 

"Play with my wings more," he said. "Play with my body. Take me. Make me yours! It all feels too good, Crowley. I can't stand it!" 

The phone rang, sharp and annoying. Crowley jolted in bed, confused for a second before storming over to his telephone and snapping it up. 

"What?" he snarled. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale called happily, unfazed by his tone of voice. "I do apologize if I'm interrupting something, but I just found a new restaurant in a little plaza. I'm free the rest of today, so I thought I could try it out with you. Are you busy?" 

Crowley looked down, feeling the tightness that swelled from his sleep. He sighed. "No. I'm not busy." 

"Wonderful! Pick me up at five?" 

He made it sound like a date, Crowley thought. "Whenever you want, angel." 

Aziraphale bid him goodbye and hung up the phone. Crowley practically slammed it down, growling at his hardened predicament. 

"What the fuck was that all about?" he hissed, recalling the dream in vivid details. He glared at his prick digging into his trousers, as if it were somehow its fault. "Well, five isn't for another two more hours. I might as well try to take care of this before I embarrass myself." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at your time. Is it anywhere in the early mornings, between one and five? If your answer is yes, click off and go to sleep. You deserve sleep. Even Crowley slept for nearly a century. Be like Crowley. Get good sleep :)

When Aziraphale entered the passenger seat and Crowley began driving to wherever the place was, his palms had the audacity to start sweating. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, subconsciously speeding up, and yelled at his own body in thought to stop sweating. Unlike the plants, this was never effective. The body was Crowley, and it wouldn't make sense for Crowley to be afraid of himself. 

There was a flash of a mad serpent striking down a pure angel in his hazy memories, and Crowley immediately took it back. He _was_ afraid of himself. Not because he was personally threatening, but because at any moment, he could bring about the end of Aziraphale. 

"Crowley! Crowley, boy!" 

He swerved hard, narrowly missing the kid with a miracle. "Shit!" he cursed, slowing just the slightest. He scolded himself in his head. Bloody idiot! Run a child over, why don't you? 

"Are you... alright? That was uncanny of you, dear," Aziraphale said, full of concern. 

"I'm fine," Crowley gritted out. "Turn here?" 

"Yes, just there."

Aziraphale was not convinced. He knew his demon. Six thousand years had to equate to something, and it did. Habits, traits, personality, and even little quirks, of course. They both knew each other well, as well as the backs of their hands. 

* * *

Crowley watched as Aziraphale took another calculated bite of ice cream, moaning in delight. He was drumming his fingers on his knee. Oh, Go- Sa- _Somebody_, Aziraphale was practically sinful with his food. Crowley was glad for his shades. He was allowed his eyes tracing every little detail of Aziraphale's pleasured face and relaxed posture. Crowley would kill to be the center of that. He mentally backtracked and reworded himself. He would die to- He would give every- He would do nearly anything to be the center of that. 

"Crowley?" Aziraphale called, spoon of creamy vanilla and chocolate poised. "Would you like a bite?" He pushed the spoonful forward in offering. 

Without thinking, Crowley parted his lips and let his tongue swipe the ice cream away. It was only when he was chewing that he noticed Aziraphale staring at him oddly and then realized what he had just done. His mind stopped working, enabling autopilot, and he leaned automatically back with a smirk. 

"Delicious." What were you doing? His brain was firing questions left and right. Were you flirting? Were you trying to joke? To tease? Why were you so bloody stupid? Why did you say that? 

Aziraphale, thankfully, chuckled. He took the sweet cherry between his forefinger and thumb and popped it into his mouth, chewing deliberately. Then he sucked the stray bit of cream off his fingers. Crowley, with the full force of his being, tore his gaze away. Suddenly, the restaurant felt hot and constricting. What the fuck was that angel doing to him? 

"Ready to go back?" Crowley mumbled, drumming his knee again. 

"So eager to be rid of my company?" Aziraphale joked. 

"That's not what I meant," Crowley said quickly. 

Aziraphale laughed. It was a light sound, a light spark that Crowley wanted to taste over his lips. The demon shifted his legs angrily, hiding the forming erection. This was getting ridiculous. Aziraphale hooked a hand under Crowley's arm to get him up. Crowley was stunned by the sudden contact. 

"I'm ready," Aziraphale said happily. "Come on then!" 

The words were ringing in Crowley's ears. He barely registered Aziraphale practically dragging him to the Bentley. His body moved on its own: walk, open door, close door, drive. 

"That was pleasant, wasn't it?" Aziraphale said. "Shame they didn't have any alcohol for you, my dear." 

"'S fine." 

Aziraphale continued to blabber on about the restaurant and the food and how polite the servers were and other things Crowley wasn't paying attention to. His mind was far too occupied by the image of Aziraphale feeding him ice cream, eating a cherry, and then sucking his fingers. Then his imagination strayed to a hand gripping just above his knee as Aziraphale fed him a second helping, messily dripping the dessert over Crowley's mouth. 

"Oh, how clumsy of me," the angel would say in irritation, leaning closer and licking the mess away. He'd moan too. "Delicious," he'd quote Crowley. 

"What is?" Crowley would question. 

"You, of course," he would answer. 

Fuck, he was definitely hard. Crowley pulled up in front of the bookshop with too much force, jolting the entire car. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale called in surprise. "What's gotten into you? You're certain you're-" 

"Yes," Crowley hissed, more aggressive than he had meant it to be. "Yes," he repeated, softer. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired." 

Aziraphale cocked his head, face still holding a concerned expression. "You can stay at my place for the night, if you'd like." 

Crowley replayed those words. They sounded familiar. He opened his mouth and realized he had no idea how to answer. Should he decline? After all, he had an erection to take care of. For certain, his cock was not going to let him pass the night peacefully without giving it attention. It would be embarrassing if Aziraphale found out. A no rested at the tip of Crowley's tongue.

"Oh, I just remembered!" Aziraphale interrupted, turning to face his shop. "I recently bought a secondary bed for a guest room! I'd appreciate it if you could... help me try it out? I was unsure if it would be comfortable enough." 

What? Crowley did a double take. "Er, sure," he answered dumbly. Wait, what?! No! You stupid idiot! His brain was shouting at him. But then Aziraphale had that sparkling look to his eyes and an excited smile that rivaled the sun. Fuck it, Crowley's common sense said. 

"Really?" Aziraphale seemed to beam with relief. "Oh, thank you, Crowley! How about I treat you to breakfast tomorrow? A small gift of gratitude." 

"Fucking hell, angel. It's only a sleepover. No need for all that." Crowley walked into the bookshop as calmly as he could, hips almost stuttering. He tried not to let his mind stray any further than it had already that night. But the scent of Aziraphale had hit him overwhelmingly the moment he stepped over the threshold. Fuck, had he always smelled that good? "Where's the bed? I'm exhausted." It wasn't a complete lie. 

"Right this way," Aziraphale said, leading him to the back. He seemed awfully excited.

That bed must have been highly requested, Crowley thought naively. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I had homework. Yes, I did this instead of my homework. Fite me.


	4. Chapter 4

Aziraphale had sat his sweet plump ass firmly between his feet in a kneeling position. His hands were hooked in front of him - not tied, just held there. He looked as though he was going to pray, but in the most sluttiest way one can. Crowley was convinced that only Aziraphale could pull off that look in that position. So really, it was in the most sluttiest way no one else can. 

The angel looked shy but not uncomfortable. There was a thrilled look in his eyes behind the blush tinting his cheeks. In less words: Aziraphale looked divine. And Crowley was aching to eat him all up, to show him just how good Crowley could make him feel. 

"Are you going to stand there and stare at me all night?" Aziraphale asked, breathless. It wasn't an annoyed or impatient question. No, it was simple curiosity. 

"I just might. Fucking Hell, angel, you look almost too good to eat." Crowley licked his lips for emphasis, taking off his sunglasses and circling the bed. Occasionally, he'd reach over and trace fingertips - lighter than a feather - just over Aziraphale's skin. 

He shuddered every time, unable to anticipate when Crowley would repeat the act. "All night?" 

"We have all night," Crowley agreed. "I plan to take my sweet, slow time savoring you, angel." 

Aziraphale gasped. "Crowley." 

"Something you want?" Crowley took a knee on the bed, kissing Aziraphale hungrily. His hands mapped the entirety of Aziraphale's bare body, excited for the new territory. "Something you _need_?" 

"You," Aziraphale moaned. "Oh, I need you. I have always needed you. Crowley, my Crowley." His eyes were half-lidded with lust and yet full of adoration. 

"Anything for you, angel." Crowley meant it. "How do you want me?" 

"I don't care!" he groaned desperately. "Just fuck me! Anyway you want. Just fuck me until I can't remember who I am anymore." 

Crowley pounced, knocking Aziraphale to his back and catching his lips again in a frenzied kiss. His tongue was only too eager to explore and dance with a partner. "Fuck, angel. You have no fucking idea what you do to me! What your body... What your looks, your fucking stares..." Crowley grounded his hips into Aziraphale's, groaning. "Ohh, your everything!" 

"Yes," Aziraphale encouraged, panting now. "Yes, yes, yes!" 

So close together. The warmth of Aziraphale was practically constricting Crowley. He loved every sensation it brought. He was starting to feel dizzy. Just as he was going to lower himself, Aziraphale's name dripping from his lips, Crowley woke up. He whimpered in longing, rolling over in bed and grinding into the mattress. He cursed, sweating and shivering. Oh fuck, it was too hot. Crowley snapped his clothes away. Too hot, too hot! He grabbed the base of his erect cock, groaning at the contact, and gave it a stroke. Soon, he was fucking into his fist, breathing hard into the pillow. His hips were snapping rhythmically. 

"Fuck! Oh, fuck! Yes, angel! That's it. That's it. That's it! Ah! Azir-a-phale!" 

His back arched and his wings unfurled out of his control. His whole body convulsed as he came hard, spilling onto his hand and over the sheets. "Sh-shit!" Crowley collapsed. His wings splayed over the bed tiredly. "Need to... clean," he mumbled to himself. 

"I've got it, darling." 

Crowley tensed at the sound of the voice. "Ang- How long were you...?!" He shot up in bed as the wet spot in the sheets miraculously disappeared. 

Aziraphale smiled at him, sitting on the bed. "Long enough. But it's alright, Crowley. I did say, after all, that I thought better dreams were in order." 

He narrowed his eyes at the angel, as if concentrating on a puzzle. He drew his wings close to his body. "You? You gave me those dreams?" 

"Well, yes. I did tell you-" 

"Dining at the Ritz, picnic at the park, even attending a masquerade were understandable, angel. It was the... the other ones that... that..." 

"Couldn't cut it?" Aziraphale suggested, frowning and sounding so disappointed in himself. 

"That are surprising," Crowley finished. 

Aziraphale's face lit up. "Oh, really?" He flushed. "Well, perhaps I did go a little overboard tonight." 

Crowley didn't know how to react. Not only was Aziraphale accepting Crowley's desires, but he was encouraging it, _reciprocating_ it. 

"My dear," Aziraphale said fondly, reaching to cup his face into his hands. 

Crowley flinched back. "Don't!" he hissed, pupils narrowing even more. His wings ruffled like the hackles of an alarmed cat. 

Aziraphale looked as though he got slapped. Did he misjudge Crowley? Had he been going too fast? Was all that he did a mistake? 

"Stay away from me, angel," Crowley said, voice shaking. Very quietly, he added, "please." 

"Crowley." He hesitated, uncertain. He felt as though any wrong movements would send Crowley scurrying off. "What's wrong?" Of course Aziraphale saw the hurt in Crowley's watery eyes that the demon was trying so hard to hide. Of course Aziraphale noticed the way Crowley couldn't decide what to do with his fidgeting hands. Of course Aziraphale could tell something was wrong. 

"I can't," Crowley murmured. "I don't want to." 

"Can't what? Don't want to what, dear?" 

"Hurt you." It was barely above a whisper. "Make you... make you Fall. It hurts too much." 

Aziraphale softened, giving a reassuring smile. "Oh, Crowley. You can't make me Fall. You won't." 

"You don't know that!" 

"I do." 

Crowley's wings spread wide suddenly, nearly hitting the walls as his black feathers stood imposingly on end. His face twisted into a frustrated scowl. "For fuck's sake, Aziraphale! I can't lose you! You bloody idiot! You think I'd ever let myself live in peace knowing that you Fell because of me?! That your wings burned and your holy light snuffed?! Do you have any fucking idea how that would... would hurt... me?" His wings dipped sorrowfully as stray tears betrayed his glare. "Because I love you. Too bloody much!" 

Aziraphale looked at him in silence for a moment, taking in Crowley's appearance. Then, without any hesitation, he leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't hot, just warm. It was simply lovely. Aziraphale cupped Crowley's face in his hands and drew back, smiling wide as his thumb wiped away the tears. "I know you won't make me Fall because you love me. I know you won't hurt me because you love me. I know you won't leave me because you love me. I know because I love you, too." 

Crowley's jaws locked. "You... stupid angel." There wasn't any bite to his words. 

"_Your_ stupid angel," Aziraphale corrected, pressing another kiss to his lips. He let his own wings unfold from the unseen and curled them around Crowley's. "Now, Crowley, if you don't mind... your display left me... in need of attention." 

The demon looked down to see the tent forming in Aziraphale's pants. He groaned, feeling himself reinvigorated. "Fuck, angel. Even after all that?" 

Aziraphale pulled closer to Crowley, sighing pleasurably when his cock brushed against Crowley's thigh. "Oh, especially after all that." 

They kissed again. It seemed as though they would never get enough of that. Aziraphale rocked his hips into Crowley and that broke all his sense of reason. Crowley pushed him back, laying over him with a feral look in his golden eyes. 

"Tell me to stop," Crowley said through gritted teeth. "Tell me to stop now. I don't know if I can stop myself once I start." 

Aziraphale closed his eyes, expression in bliss. "I trust you. Please. Give me more, my dear." 

Crowley lunged for his lips, trailing hot kisses down his jaw and over Aziraphale's jugular vein. He bit the spot just above his collarbone and Aziraphale moaned. 

"Oh good lord, Crowley!" 

He continued down, snapping his fingers impatiently to unclothe him. 

"S-slow down, Crowley. Slow down." 

It took effort for Crowley to oblige, scrambling to undress himself without a miracle. He continued giving attention to Aziraphale's neck. Then he lowered himself to the prize. It was already weeping for him too. Crowley let his forked tongue loll out of his mouth, taking in just the tip while he moved his expert muscle around Aziraphale's erection. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped, fingers tightening into his hair as he grounded into him. "Oh lord! Crowley, that feels... so good." 

He swallowed around the cock then took more of Aziraphale - inch by slow inch - until the tip hit the back of his throat. 

"Crowley! Crowley!" Aziraphale twitched forward, beckoning for Crowley to move. 

The demon did. Slow, at first. Pacing himself to ensure that he wouldn't be too fast for his angel. When Aziraphale insisted he wanted more with sharp tugs and hip rolls, Crowley moved faster. Saliva had built past his lips as he wriggled his tongue, groaning at the sight of Aziraphale. The angel was a mess, babbling encouragements and letting slip his angelic tongue once in a while. Crowley stopped abruptly, sucked sharply at the tip, and dove back down to the base. Aziraphale shuddered, wings quivering. 

"No, darling! I-if you keep that up... I'll surely... oh, surely... surely come!" 

Come then, Crowley thought, repeating his ministrations and speeding up. Yes, angel. Come into me. Let me see your dirty expression as you release. 

Aziraphale was panting hard, all words forgotten except Crowley's name. And then, with a twitch, he came with a cry of pleasure. Crowley swallowed it all, lapping up the dribbles. He tilted his head back as he swallowed, exposing the bob of his throat. Aziraphale groaned at the sight. 

"Tempter," he mumbled. 

Crowley smirked. "How was that for a night?" 

Aziraphale pulled Crowley to him, kissing him sloppily. "You're beautiful," he breathed into his neck. 

"Really?" Crowley scoffed, smiling slightly. "That's what you're going for?" 

He suddenly grabbed Crowley's cock, stroking ever so slowly. Crowley moaned, bucking into his hand. Aziraphale used his free hand to grab his hip with the strength befitting his title of warrior, keeping him from moving. His strokes continued to be agonizingly slow. 

"Fuck, angel! Faster!" 

Aziraphale kissed his stomach, sitting up to reach his navel. "So pretty." 

Crowley whined. "Angel, please!" 

He ignored Crowley, kissing over his inner thighs as he kept stroking. "Marvelous, wonderful. The handsomest." 

"Aziraphale!" he called, writhing in his hold. "Angel, please, please! I can't... oh, I can't take it anymore!" 

"Lovely, exquisite." Aziraphale tightened his hold and gave a quick pump. His eyes seemed to turn wild as Crowley moaned loudly. "Mine." He gave another pump and another, properly fucking Crowley with his hand now. "Mine. Only mine." 

Crowley's wings stretched as his head rolled back in blinded pleasure. "Oh, fuck, yes! Yes, yes, yours. I'm all fucking yours, angel!" 

Aziraphale let Crowley's hip go and reached for his wing, digging his fingers into the innermost feathers. Crowley cried out, back arching as his cock twitched, spilling over Aziraphale's hand. He slumped over onto his angel's shoulder, wings falling tiredly. 

"There we are, dear," Aziraphale murmured soothingly, combing his clean fingers through his hair. He raised his soiled ones and sucked on them, savoring them as if they were dessert. He sighed. "Delicious." 

Crowley held onto Aziraphale tightly, nearly clinging onto him. "Don't leave me yet, angel." 

He laid them down, kissing Crowley's cheek. "No. I don't plan on leaving my beloved anytime soon." 

"My beloved." Crowley liked the taste of the word. He drifted off to a satisfied sleep. "Beloved." 


	5. Chapter 5

Fire. It was always fire, wasn't it? That damned element couldn't stop destroying things! Then Crowley dropped. It was a Fall, but it only hurt when he crashed through the salty surface of ocean. As if the universe - as if _She_ \- had a twisted mind to prove him wrong. Crowley couldn't breath, which was ridiculous because he didn't need to. But he was very clearly suffocating. 

Distantly, a figure dove in and reached for him. Crowley was helpless, drifting limply along the current. Just when he felt the graze of a hand, it was violently torn from him. The figure struggled. There was red spreading, spreading, spreading. It tumbled through the water in clouds and blinded Crowley. There were feathers, whiter than snow, flushed with the current. Crowley saw wings, black against the diluted sunlight, and Aziraphale stared directly into his eyes. The sky that was once held in his irises became a sunset. It looked wrong on Aziraphale's face. Just as wrong as the twisted grin he had, as the sickly sallow look to his skin. 

"AZIRAPHALE!" Crowley choked on the name as he jumped awake, wings shaking. 

Aziraphale nearly threw his book in a panic. "Crowley?! Crowley, what's wrong?" He hugged his demon, holding onto him tightly. 

Crowley quivered, gasping in uneven breaths. "Azira... angel... 'Zira..." 

"I'm here, darling. I'm here. It's alright." He rubbed a hand along his spine and over his lower back, shushing him gently. "I'm here." 

"My fault," Crowley muttered. "My fault. Should've stopped... should've left..." 

Aziraphale shook his head, kissing Crowley's temple. "If there is anything I am absolutely sure of, it is that nothing is your fault. I chose you above the Upstairs. I will continue to choose you, my dear. It is not your fault." He sighed against Crowley's skin, eyes watering. "I'm sorry, Crowley. I should have realized you were having a nightmare. I should've done something." 

Crowley pressed a desperate kiss to his lips. "Make me forget? Remind me... remind me you're here?" 

Aziraphale hesitated. "In this state, Crowley, I don't think-" 

"Please." It was broken. 

He summoned and wrapped his wings - still whiter than snow - around Crowley, blanketing them both in warmth. "Any other time, I would happily oblige. But, my dear, not this time. You're shaking and nearly down to tears. How about I draw you a hot bath? We can both-" 

"No!" Crowley tensed, swallowing with difficulty. "No, I-I don't want anything to do with water." 

Aziraphale nodded, though he didn't quite understand. Still, he kissed his demon and held him tighter. "You're alright, I promise. We're alright." 

* * *

"It's math, angel. Like... twelve is two sixes. Except with more numbers." Crowley downed another glass. 

"But i-it has... letters, Crowley." Aziraphale poured more into their glasses. "They call it... allegro or something." 

"Arabic- Archaic- Algebraic!" Crowley hiccuped. "Anyway, I thought it made sense. If there's numbers in a nonsense system of sssstuff, why not letters too?" 

"It's supposed to be reasoning, isn't it? Math and numbers?" 

"Pffft. You're enough reason, angel." 

Aziraphale flushed, smiling. "You are, too. All my reasoning." 

Crowley's face turned completely red. He shrugged, raising a suggestive brow. "Enough reasoning to get your cock inside me?" 

He chuckled. "If you sober up." 

"I'd love you either way, angel." 

"I know you do." Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed him, tasting the wine they shared. "But I can't bring myself to make love to you while drunk. It... makes me nervous." 

Crowley sobered up. Azraphale followed. The angel kissed him again, pushing his tongue passed Crowley's lips in need. He pulled back with a gasp. 

"You're sure you're alright, my dear?" 

He growled. "Stop fussing, angel, and just fuck me already." 

Aziraphale pushed him down on his back, pinning him with his knees. "Have I told you how beautiful you look beneath me?" 

Crowley's face somehow deepened a shade darker. "Probably." 

"You're hard already," Aziraphale pointed out, shifting his leg to rub against his demon's erection. 

"Aziraphale," he breathed. "Sensitive." 

"I know," he practically growled, slipping off Crowley's coat and shirt, pulling down his pants. "Good lord, you really are pretty." He pulled his own trousers down, cock springing out eagerly. Aziraphale pushed two fingers into Crowley's mouth. 

He gladly sucked on them, coating them generously with saliva. He shivered at the look his angel gave him. 

"That's it," he encouraged, slipping his fingers out and lifting Crowley's legs over his shoulders. 

Crowley felt vulnerable, exposed. It thrilled him. The first digit that entered him made him groan lowly, head tilting back. Aziraphale pushed a second digit in and stretched him out gently, prodding and wriggling until- 

"Oh, fuck, angel! There! Yes, right there!" He bucked his hips awkwardly, inconvenienced by the position. Knowing then that Aziraphale had done that cleverly on purpose made him harder. 

Aziraphale pushed deeper, reaching for more. 

Crowley shuddered. "Angel! I might... fuck, you might make me come just from that." 

"Trust me, you won't." Aziraphale gave a sweet - not innocent - smile. He leaned forward and aligned himself with his lover. He kissed Crowley's inner thigh and pressed into him, letting just the tip in. 

Crowley whined, legs quivering. "S-slow. Too slow." 

"You can take it, can't you?" Aziraphale pushed an inch deeper - just one inch and no more. 

He whined again, already panting. "Yes, yes." 

The angel grinned and gave him a kiss, feeling the neediness in Crowley's insisting tongue. Despite not needing to breathe, Aziraphale felt breathless. He gave another slight thrust, two inches. He could tell Crowley was getting impatient. Aziraphale pulled out entirely, chuckling when his lover made a noise in his throat. Then he sheathed himself to the hilt, grunting at how tight Crowley was. 

"Aziraphale!" Crowley tried to buck his hips again, to no avail. "I'm begging you, angel!" 

"Doesn't sound like it." Aziraphale's voice was starting to lose composure. He struggled to keep up his even pace. 

"Please, Aziraphale! Fuck, please! I need it. Need it! Ohh, I need you!" 

His breath hitched and his hips stuttered. He thrust again. "My darling, you're - oh! - so beautiful. Mm, yes." He sped up his thrusts, hitting at the perfect angle. 

"Azi-zira-phale!" Crowley reached for himself. 

Aziraphale stopped and slammed Crowley's wrists above his head with more force than he'd intended to use. Crowley moaned, eyes bleary with lust. "S-sorry, dear. Forgot my strength. Let me take care of you. Let me. You more than deserve it," his angel said, kissing up his neck and jaw. He kept one hand over Crowley's wrists and reached his other to stroke his cock. That elicited a gorgeous sound from Crowley. Aziraphale kept his thrusts in time with his strokes. 

"Good! Yes, so good. You're so good. Come for me, darling. Come!" 

"Dirty angel," Crowley accused weakly as he grunted, groaned, gasped. "Ah- fuck! Aziraphale! Angel!" 

"That's right. That's right, my love. Almost... there..." 

Aziraphale came, tensing and shivering. The feeling of being filled brought Crowley over the edge. Their names mixed together into a single passionate cry. Aziraphale laid over Crowley, tired. He peppered his demon in kisses and feathery touches, cleaning them with a miracle. 

"Crowley," he murmured lovingly. "This is real. Can you hear me?" 

He nodded, eyes still half-lidded. 

"Can you feel me?" Aziraphale pulled out of him carefully and kissed him anywhere he could reach. 

Crowley mumbled an agreement. 

"I love you so much, Crowley." Aziraphale gently dressed him back up, methodically moving his fingers to button his shirt, pull on clothing, smooth out wrinkles. "I love you. Remember, I love you. And nothing, no one - not Heaven, not Hell - will ever change that, my dearest." 

He nodded again, relaxing into his angel's hold and letting sleep take over him. Somehow, he didn't feel nervous anymore. Crowley could only feel the touches of his angel, his breathing, his love. That was enough. He fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I finished. I'm tired. I'm too lazy to proofread. I'm sorry. Goodnight, everybody!


End file.
